


Casse

by PolarisAmane



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Canon character deaths, F/F, Gamer Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor Needs a Hug, Lena learning to heal, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Thirsty Lena, Vineyard AU, beefy kara, cw mentions of child abuse, i don't know what the fuck i'm doing, past mentions of car crash, she actually gets lots of hugs in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:21:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29929908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarisAmane/pseuds/PolarisAmane
Summary: Lena is fresh out of rehab, newly cut off from her family and ready to leave all her past mistakes behind her. And what better way to make a new start in life then to use the last of the money her father left her than to buy a huge stake in Argo Wines, a once prestigious vineyard and winery near ruined by family in fighting and a dark past that nearly rivals Lena’s own.To make it work she’s going to have to work with a disgruntled ex-cop who doesn’t trust anybody,  least of all Lena and her family, and the human embodiment of sunshine who seems more interested in her fake farm on her game then the very real business that Lena’s trying to save. That’s not even mentioning the dog that’s determined to eat every pair of boots she owns.She’s going to need all her wits and business acumen to make this work and to not be distracted by the way Kara can heft those heavy oak barrels two at time with ease...
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 9
Kudos: 52





	Casse

**Author's Note:**

> I want to keep this one lighter on the angst then Mercury is, but we'll still be diping our toes in ye olde angst pool and bringing up some less than savoury subjects. If at any point you feel that I should tag something then yell and I'll tag it.
> 
> If you didn't catch it in the tags, Lena is a recovering alcoholic and there will be mentions of her struggles throughout this fic.
> 
> All mistakes lovingly crafted by my own hands for that authentic feel.

The week before she turned a quarter of a century Lena Luthor fell off the wagon in spectacular fashion, as only members of her family knew how. She remembered one drink and then she remembered waking up in hospital and everything hurting. The following weeks were a blur, until she was waking up alone in her room in rehab, sweating and crying and wishing she’d died.

Six weeks later and she was walking out of that same room, sunglasses perched on her head, having the day before been informed that she was being released despite being two weeks short of her court ordered stint. 

She avoided the front desk, kept her head down and avoided all the other patients too. Coked up socialites, sex addicted athletes, pill-popping party goers, and the regular alcoholics such as herself. She was in esteemed company here and she couldn’t wait to turn her back on it. Veronica Sinclair, the only other patient she talked to, eyed her suspiciously as she walked down the hallway towards Doctor Olsen’s office.

Strictly speaking, Lena should just be gathering her meagre possession and leaving, but she felt she owed it to Doctor Olsen to say a proper goodbye.

Maybe even a thank you.

She was a large part of the reason Lena was leaving here determined to make it work this time. To not just leave here and find the nearest bar.

Okay, she was never actually going to do that. Alcoholic she might be, but she still had some class. She’d find an upscale bar and pay the staff to keep her plied and then to pile her into a car with tinted windows and never speak of the mess she’d made of her table or the bathroom. 

She paused outside Doctor Olsen’s office, rubbed her hands down her jeans, nervous in the same way she used to be at school when she had to knock on her favourite teacher’s office door. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, Doctor Olsen was endlessly kind and had never, not once, made Lena feel stupid for her feelings or her thoughts.

_“We all have ugly thoughts and emotions, Lena, you’re not alone in that. Having them doesn’t mean we have to act on them.”_

_“Repression it is. I have a lot practice in that field.”_

_Doctor Olsen laughed gently. “It’s not about repression, it’s about recognition.”_

Recognition. Lena took ten breaths. She felt, scared. Worried. Anxious about what was waiting for her outside. And that was okay, those were normal feelings to have. She didn’t have to fight them. She didn’t have to let them control her.

She knocked on the door, a short sharp business-like rap of her knuckles against the heavy wood.

“Come in,” Doctor Olsen called from behind the door. 

Lena did as she was bid, opening the door just wide enough so she could slip in and letting it fall closed behind her. Doctor Olsen smiled warmly at her from behind her desk.

“Lena, I just heard the news,” she said. She clicked her pen a couple of times, half turned in her swivel chair.

“Early release,” Lena said. She was hovering, her hands hanging useless by her sides and twitching like they did when she had no idea what to do with them. She wanted to fidget, find something to play with and keep them occupied. But the sharp memory of being hit across her knuckles as a child kept her hands at her side. “For good behaviour, I assume.”

“Hmmm,” Doctor Olsen said, nodding once, slowly, her eyes sliding away from Lena. She didn’t approve of Lena’s early discharge, that much was obvious.

“My mother’s influence, no doubt.” Lena flexed her fingers. Now or never. “I wanted to say good-bye and to say thank you. I wouldn’t have been able to make this work without you. It’s clichéd to say this, but, you saved my life.”

“You did most the work yourself.”

Not true, but it was kind of her to say so. The first time Lena had sat in a private session with her, she’d been recalcitrant, had crossed her arms and refused to speak like she was thirteen and not newly turned twenty-five. Slowly, Doctor Olsen had won her over, with her big kind, understanding eyes, her soft encouraging smiles, and her way of cutting through Lena’s bullshit, never in a way that left Lena feeling small, but in a way that felt more like she was leading Lena gently onto the right path and allowing her to see her own mistakes. Lena had never felt judged in this office.

It both hurt and helped that Doctor Olsen was very attractive. Lena had been harbouring an utterly mortifying crush like some schoolgirl. After their second session Lena had started putting in the work just because she wanted to impress her, somewhere along the lines that had shifted, she still wanted to please Doctor Olsen, to prove she was worthy of her efforts, but she’d also found that she was putting in the work because she wanted to be better. She found herself wanting to be the kind of person she would want to look up to.

She looked about Doctor Olsen’s office, committing it to memory. If it all went right then this would be the last time she’d be in here. The shelves behind her desk were still packed full of books, old and new, on psychology and therapy, and the other medical journals. There was a photo frame of Doctor Olsen in uniform from when she’d been in active service. A bowl of fidget toys. A model of a brain that could be disassembled. She had two plants, one was plastic, the other a small squat cactus called Gus that had been a gift from Doctor Olsen’s brother that sat in a shitty handmade clay pot. Doctor Olsen had explained early on that she couldn’t keep plants alive, which seemed an odd confession for a psychologist to make to one of her patients in her care. 

Lena had been horrified to learn later that she kept fish and had barely restrained herself from asking how many of them were belly up in the tank. Beyond the picture of herself there were very few personal objects or pictures in her office, unsurprising given her field, but also surprising given that her brother was a famous photographer. 

Lena knew him. Or, rather, she had known him. They had briefly run in the same social circles, everyone who was anyone had wanted their picture taken by James Olsen. She had run into him at parties before, and had flirted with him and let him buy her drinks, had possibly slept with him but she wasn’t entirely sure because she’d been blackout drunk. She’d definitely woken up in bed with him, both of them in a state of undress. She left him there, not wanting to know what had happened.

She’d never told Doctor Olsen that.

“I’m going to be honest, Lena,” Doctor Olsen said. “I’m not thrilled that you’re being released early. We still had a lot of ground to cover. But,” she sighed heavily, “you have the tools, you have the motivation, and I believe that you can make this work. If you need to talk, even if it’s for something small and seemingly insignificant, you give me a call.” She pulled her card out from her desk draw and handed it over to Lena.

Lena took it, careful not to let her fingers touch Doctor Olsen’s. Her throat was constricting. If she started crying now she’d never stopped.

“Would it be foolish to say that I’ll miss you?” Lena asked in a small voice, like a child begging for scraps.

“I’ll miss you too,” Doctor Olsen said with that same understanding, utterly genuine smile. She stood up and walked around her desk, arms held open. “Not really meant to do this but, bring it in.”

Lena stepped into her arms, let her own arms circle round her back. Unsurprisingly Doctor Olsen gave a damn good hug. Just the right amount of pressure that Lena felt held but not suffocated. She concentrated on not crying and in not doing anything creepy like sniffing Doctor Olsen’s hair.

“You’re so stiff,” Doctor Olsen said. She rubbed the back of Lena’s shoulders, then pushed her away. “Okay, enough, or else I’m going to cry. Look after yourself. Call me if you need anything. Good luck out there and I don’t ever want to see you back in my office. You hear?”

“I do, Doctor Olsen.”

“Kelly,” Doctor Olsen said. “You’re no longer my patient, you can call me Kelly.”

Lena smiled. “Thank you. Truly, for everything.”

“One last thing before you go.” Doctor Olsen — Kelly — reached behind her desk and plucked Gus off from the shelves. She handed him to Lena. “It’s a miracle I haven’t managed to kill him, he’ll fare a lot better with you.”

Lena took the ugly little cactus, eyes burning now with the effort not to cry. She hated the stupid little thing. It used to live on Kelly’s desk until she picked it up and pricked herself on it and it had been banished to the shelves. She had spent half a session explaining to Kelly I pain staking detail the kind of care a cactus needed, that even a desert dwelling plant needed some water, and that it needed sunlight to thrive. 

“Take care of him.”

“Of course.” Lena stepped back, throat tight, heart hammering, eyes stinging, and offered Kelly an embarrassingly tremulous smile. “I hope never to be back here but I also hope this isn’t the last time we see each other.”

“Same. Goodbye, Lena.”

“Good bye.” She opened the door and slipped back out, hurried up the corridor and towards her freedom.

“Luthor!”

So close.

Lena stopped and turned. Veronica slinked her way up towards her, because she was incapable of walking like a normal person and seduction was written in everything she did. 

“Is it true?” Veronica asked, stopping just shy of Lena and eyeing her from head to foot and back again. A pain-killer and gambling addiction as well as a dependency on sex, not addiction, dependency, was what had landed Veronica here. It was only the pill taking that she seemed to be working on controlling. She was running a betting pool with the other patients and had been fucking Lena for the past six-weeks. Lena was probably going to miss that small self-destructive human connection.

“Depends,” Lena replied. She wished she’d put her sunglasses on properly, hated that Veronica could see that her eyes were wet and bloodshot. 

“That you’re out?”

“It is.”

Veronica shook her head, a sardonic smile curling one corner of her lips. “Figures. Mommy’s money bailing you out early.”

She’d rather have stayed, but that was something Veronica would never understand. They were both here on court orders, the difference was that Lena knew she deserved to be here, that truthfully she deserved to be somewhere a lot worse than an $8500 a day rehab centre for washed up celebs and politicians and senator’s children. Her mother’s money had bought her out of a stretch in prison and landed her in the best rehab facility int he state.

“Aww, are you going to miss me?” Lena pressed. Veronica only spoke the language of barbs and put downs, there would be no point in pretending that sentimentality existed in her world.

“Hardly.”

She wouldn’t and the knowledge that she wouldn’t didn’t even so much as scratch Lena. 

“See you around, Ronnie.” She flicked her sunglasses down over her eyes and spun on her heel, walking away with her head held high. 

The good feeling lasted as long as it took her to walk to the front desk where the head of the facility was waiting for her with a tired looking assistant.

“Miss Luthor,” Mr. Kahn said in his usual droll manner. “It is with a heavy heart that we say good bye to you.”

“Isn’t this supposed to be a good day?”

He stared down at her, unimpressed, like he was expecting her back in a month’s time, probably drunk off her ass and raving. He would love it if she was. The man was a parasite with no interest in healing those that passed through his over-priced facility. His eyes were already glowing with the thought of Lena relapsing and having to come back, the near endless well of her family’s money lining his pockets.

“I’m all packed already.” She held Gus up for him to see.

“Not quite,” he said. He clicked his fingers and his assistant stepped forward, brandishing a plastic bag that contained items that had been taken off from her when she’d been first brought in. Things that they thought wouldn’t be conducive to her healing. 

She took the bag and opened it. Her purse, a ratty note book that would be half filled with drunk ramblings, her phone now long dead, a necklace and earrings, and, finally, the only thing of any worth in the bag. She dug her hand in and pulled out the small metal chip that had been given to her by Sam and Ruby over a year ago when she’d first completed a sobriety program. She turned it over in her fingers. The enamel was chipped, the crescent moon and stars sad looking. She tucked it in her pocket, utterly determined that this time she would do them proud. She wasn’t going to let them or herself down.

“Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, my ride is here.”

She turned from them and walked out the door, from the controlled artificial light in to the sun and — Jesus Christ! Had it always been this bright? If she wasn’t already wearing sunglasses she’d have been blinded. She was still squinting despite the tinted lenses, like she’d been kept in a darkened room for six weeks rather than a luxury compound that was more luxurious than most hotels.

“Hey!” Sam was waiting for her, leaning against her car. She jumped up at the sight of Lena, waving as though she was miles away rather than a mere fifteen feet.

“Samantha,” Lena said in greeting. She trudged down the steps and towards her oldest and only friend. Sam pulled her into a tight hug.

“I missed you!” She enthused, pressing her face into Lena’s shoulder. She squeezed her again, her hands pressing against Lena’s back. Lena returned the hug, careful not to accidentally stab Sam with Gus. Part of her had worried that Sam wouldn’t be here, that this last drama would be a step too far, and that the only reason Sam had answered her phone last night was because Lena’s mother had made her. “Did you lose weight?”

“Stop. I did the exact opposite of lose weight.” 

“You look good. Healthy.” Sam pushed her back and scanned over her face. “You really gave me a scare.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Lena sighed. “Can we leave the recriminations for morning? I really want to get out of here before the press shows up.”

“No press, Jess took care of it all. They have no idea about your early release.” Sam opened the back door for her. She frowned at the clear plastic bag and Gus in Lena’s hand “That all you got with you?”

“It’s more than I need.” Lena tossed her bag into the car and slipped into the back seat, sliding on the polished leather, Gus held carefully in her hand. She exhaled as Sam closed the door, letting the relief wash over her.

Ruby was in the front passenger seat, headphones on and her phone in hand. She turned and looked at Lena, pulling her headphones down so they hung around her neck. It felt like an age since Lena had last seen her goddaughter, and somehow in the last six plus weeks Ruby had managed to grow. She was nearly thirteen and judging by the look she was throwing Lena’s way was already perfecting the disinterested teenage expression. Lena wasn’t deterred, she felt her lips spread wide at the sight of the young girl, heart swelling that little bit it always did when she saw Ruby with that mixture of affection and pride.

“Did you get to ride horses?” Ruby asked. “Tyler uncle went to rehab and he got to ride horses.”

“I did. I also got to go abseiling, meditate, and feed a whole bunch of chickens.” 

“Sounds more like summer camp than rehab.”

“It wasn’t all fun and games, I assure you. I also had to go to a pottery class.”

“Ha!” Sam slid into the driver’s side. “And how did that go?”

“I won’t be taking it up as a career.” She held Gus sitting in his disaster of a pot up as evidence of her failings as a potter.

Ruby made an unimpressed noise and pulled her headphones back on, she turned back facing forward, ignoring Lena. That stung. Lena leaned back in her seat, deflated. Usually Ruby was much happier to see her, usually it was ‘aunt Lena this’ and ‘aunt Lena that’ but her silence, the lack of greeting hurt. It wasn’t at all what Lena was prepared for. She looked to Sam, who glanced back at her through the rear view mirror. She shrugged a shoulder.

It was a painful reminder that it hadn’t only been herself that Lena had let down.

She fastened her seatbelt as Sam pulled away, the compound falling behind them.

“Where are we going?” Lena asked. It would be a couple of hours drive back to Metropolis and, traffic depending, another hour once they hit the city to get to Lena’s apartment in New Troy.

“You’re staying with us,” Sam said. “I’ve already shifted some of your things to our house and cleared out the guest bedroom. The rest of your things are in storage.”

“What? Why?”

“Yeah,” Sam breathed. “So, uh, Lillian might have sold your apartment.”

“What?” Lena barked. “She can’t sell my apartment, it’s my apartment that I bought with my money.”

“With your family’s money,” Sam said. “At least that’s what the general understanding of the situation is. She bought the apartment for you so she is allowed to sell it.”

“My name is on the deed.”

“Not according to her lawyers.”

Lena sank back into her seat. This was great, just great. She was probably going to have to go to court with her mother just to get her apartment back. Or she could, as Lillian no doubt expected her to, just ignore it, to just let this slide as she always did when Lillian controlled her life. 

“There’s some other stuff involving Lillian that we should talk about.” Sam kept her eyes on the road ahead. “You need to prepare yourself. Lillian is the one who pulled strings to get you discharged early.”

She figured as much. It meant she needed something from Lena.

“Is Lex still in prison?” Lena asked.

“Yes. After what he did not even Lillian Luthor has the power to get him out early.”

Lena’s grip around Gus’s pot tightened. Her fingers pressing into the poorly formed and baked clay like Lex’s fingers had dug into the flesh of her neck all those months ago.

“Good.” It was all she could manage to say.

The sobriety chip in her pocket felt like it was burning a hole in her leg.

//\/\/\\\

It was near silence all the way back to Metropolis. Lena nodded off, occasionally waking enough to hear the murmured conversation between Sam and her daughter. Snippets stuck with her. Words that drifted into the edge of her consciousness and melted away before she could commit them to memory. They might have been dreamed.

They pulled into the driveway of Sam’s beautiful suburban home, with her perfect lawn and picket fence. Lena hated the suburbs but this was what Sam had wanted all her life and now she had the money for it Lena wasn’t going to fault her on it.

Ruby hopped out the car and walked up to the front door, not taking her eyes off of her phone.

“Did phones get more interesting while I was inside?” Lena enquired. Ruby unlocked the front door without looking up once.

Sam sighed. “It’s some guy on YouTube she’s become obsessed with. I don’t get it, he’s the human equivalent of store brand white bread but her and her friends are utterly gaga over him.”

“Cute. She’s reached the age where she’s discovered boys.”

“I was really hoping it would be a couple more years before that happened.” Sam walked up the driveway after her daughter with Lena trailing after her. “But hey! At least he’s just some douche on the Internet and not some douche in her class, right?”

“Right!” Lena tried to pour the right amount of enthusiasm and support in to her tone. Sam threw a look at her over her shoulder that suggested Lena had gone a little far.

They settled inside. Lena followed Ruby to the living room and collapsed on one of the couches opposite Ruby who was curled up in the corner, eyes still glued on the small screen and clearly holding back giggles.

Sam bustled into the kitchen yelling something about coffee.

Lena set Gus down on the coffee table. She’d find a more suitable place for him later. “So, Ruby, how’s school?”

Ruby glanced up at her, shrugged, and looked back down at the phone.

“Rude.” Sam tugged Ruby’s headphones off as she walked past carrying a steaming mug of coffee for Lena. “What did I say about ignoring guests?” Sam said just as Ruby cried, “Mom!”

“It’s alright,” Lena said. She was already clearly in Ruby’s bad book and had no desire to fall further out of favour. It was going to take some work to get back in Ruby’s good graces and win back her trust.

“It absolutely is not alright.” Sam sat down next to Lena. “We’ve already talked about this, Ruby. When people are talking to you we don’t just stare at our phones.”

“Fine.” Ruby put the phone down and stared across at Lena, eyes hard. Obviously it was Lena’s fault that she was no longer allowed to stare at whatever disposable celebrity had caught her fancy. “School is fine.”

“Are you still playing soccer?” This was agony. Conversation with Ruby used to come so easily. What happened to that bright eyed little girl who hung on Lena’s every word? She didn’t know what to say. 

“Yeah.”

“She’s doing great!” Sam jumped in, enthused. “Even had a college scout checking her out, didn’t you, Rubes?”

“Yeah.”

Lena sipped her coffee. “That’s great! You must be pleased.”

“I guess.” Ruby shrugged again. Her hands found her phone again and it wasn’t difficult to see that Ruby wanted out of the conversation and to go back to whatever, much more interesting thing, was happening on her phone. It was hard to fault her, who wanted to be stuck in a conversation with their absolute mess of a godmother? 

“You’ll be able to get a scholarship.” Not she’d nee done. Sam was very well paid, and Lena had long ago decided that when it came to college she was going to pay for everything. 

Ruby shrugged again.

“Your friends doing well?”

“Yeah.”

Lena nodded. Superb. This was worse than her first group therapy session, and that had been full of people staring at her as they realised who she was and all desperately wanting to ask her about Lex.

“She’s doing real well at school,” Sam chipped in. “Honestly, I am so proud. Her grades are great, teachers love her, and she’s handling all her extra-curricular activities.”

Ruby squirmed under the praise. “Can I go to my room?”

Sam sighed, again, in the way parents did. “Sure.”

Ruby couldn’t get out of there fast enough. She grabbed her phone and scuttled away, not even looking back at her mom or Lena.

“Sorry,” Sam said.

“She hates me,” Lena said, letting that knowledge sink in.

“She doesn’t hate you, it’s just.” Sam’s head dropped and she sighed again, heavier this time. “It was hard on her. You were her hero, she really looked up to you and when it all went down. Well. It wasn’t pretty. The things they said about you in the press, what they dug up. You have no idea how bad it got. Jess and I did what we could but it wasn’t enough. The speed that rumours spread now is insane; it’s so difficult to control the narrative.”

“There was no need to control it. I killed a boy.”

“Lena!” Sam fell back against her couch, annoyed and tired.

“It’s true. Oh, I didn’t do anything so dramatic as put a gun to his head or go the Lex route, but I killed him nonetheless.”

“You made a mistake.”

“That killed a boy.”

“He was twenty-two. Stop saying ‘boy’ like he was a child.”

“Doesn’t make him less dead.” Didn’t make Lena’s guilt any less. She raised her mug in mock salute to Sam. “If it wasn’t for my family’s money and influence I’d be in prison. I should be in prison.”

“Is this you telling me you’re going to be self-destructive? That you’re gonna punish yourself because you feel the state failed to do so? Because if it is then you can actually get out of my house. Ruby doesn’t need that.”

Lena lowered her mug, set it down on the table. “I was being flippant. Sorry.”

“No, I-” Sam ran her hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. That was harsh, too harsh. You’re always welcome here, Lena. It’s just - endlessly blaming yourself for what happened won’t bring him back and it won’t help you either.”

“I know.” She did know this; she’d done a lot of work on herself. “I went to therapy when I was inside.”

“Good for you, I mean that. Did it help?”

“It did.” Lena smiled. She could accept her guilt without letting it consume her. Those were some big steps! “So, what has Lillian been up to while I’ve been away?”

“It might be better if you see for yourself.” Sam stood up and crossed the room. She went to the drawers at the back and opened one, pulling out a tablet, she crossed back over to Lena, sitting heavily down on the couch. She flipped the cover over and turned it on.

“Please tell me she’s not following my father’s footsteps and going into politics.”

“Nothing that bad.” Sam brought up a video clip. Lena recognised the show, Lillian had frequented it enough over the years. In the past she had talked about parenting, about how she had raised two genius children, and how you could too. Flogging her her books on parental psychology, dragging her children to perform and show how good she was at parenting, her two perfect little geniuses. It had been a strange and damaging childhood.

Lillian sat on the couch opposite the host, Gemma Cooper, the table between them stacked with books. Lena’s heart was already in her stomach, twisting and beating dully. 

_“It’s no secret that my family has had more than its fair share of trauma this past year,”_ Lillian said, face moulded into an uncharacteristic look of sadness. Gemma nodded soothingly, murmuring her empty platitudes of sympathy and understanding. _“I’ve had a lot of time to reflect. To consider my husband and his being unfaithful to me and what that meant for myself and for my son.”_

Lena grabbed Sam’s arm. 

“Wait, she’s talking about Lionel’s infidelity? Our family’s deepest darkest secret?” She turned to Sam, wide eyed and shocked to her core. Lillian was still talking, speaking about how they fabricated the story of adopting Lena, of how she was Lionel’s biological daughter, a product of an affair, that they had been forced to take her in after her mother died. All those years where Lena hadn’t known, where she’d thought she’d been adopted, then the following years after she’d found out, where she’d been forbidden to speak of it, all of it thrown out the window. And thrown out there by Lillian’s own hand of all things. Family secret defenestration. A little bit of family sabotage to keep everyone on their toes. 

She didn’t know what to do. She felt… she felt. “This is weirdly underwhelming,” she said. 

Lillian was now waxing poetic about her genius little boy, about how hard life was for Lex.

“Skip this bit,” Lena instructed. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Sam did as she was told, skipping the next minute of the interview. “I think it’s about the four minute mark she starts talking about you again.”

“Wonderful.”

_“Lena had always been a troubled child, it’s little surprise that she grew to be a —”_ Lillian paused, lips pursed as she thought of her next words. _“Complicated adult,”_ she settled on as Gemma continued her vapid nodding, blond curls so coated in hair spray they didn’t so much as budge. _“We tried our best with her but the sad fact is that sometimes our best isn’t good enough._

Ouch. Lena winced.

Lillian always knew just where to stick the knife in and twist it.

“It gets worse,” Sam warned.

_“Alcoholism is a disease and it is unfortunate for Lena that it runs on both sides of her family.”_

“Bullshit,” Lena hissed. She knew enough about her birth mother to know she hadn’t been an alcoholic. 

_“We watched as this disease, this addiction slowly took Lionel from us.”_

“Eh, okay, that one is true.”

_“It changed him, making him act in awful ways.”_

“That, less so. He was an awful person long before he hit the bottle.” Lena rubbed her forehead with her fingers. She could feel the beginnings of a headache forming behind her eyes. “So she’s written a book that airing all our family’s dirty laundry. And people are going to buy it?”

_“I refuse to allow my daughter follow down the same path.”_

“Wow,” Lena breathed. The last time she had spoken to Lillian had been over the phone on her third night in rehab. Lillian had been less than impressed that she’d called. _“Really Lena, you’re an adult and perfectly capable of making your own decisions. You can’t expect me to swoop in and clean up your messes. You’ve made your bed, now lie in it.”_

“I know,” Sam said. She paused the video. “Okay, cliff notes version of the rest. Obviously no one wants advice on parenting from a woman who’s first born is currently in prison for multiple homicides and whose daughter, no offense, got drunk and wrapped her Aston Martin around a tree.”

It was all good when your son was the youngest CEO working with aspiration of one day running for senate, and when your daughter was boasting on-line about how she was on the team cracking the secret to nanotech and leading the revolution of women in STEM. Less so when your son greenlights an experimental treatment and personally decides that he can experiment on societies most vulnerable leading to dozens of deaths. Worse still, when it’s your daughter who goes to the feds and hands over the evidence against him. Possibly salvageable if said daughter wasn’t a self-destructive alcoholic who was intent on ruining her own life, who then went on to kill someone herself. Bit of a hole in the career really. Lillian’s books should have been called How to Raise a Sociopath.

“Lillian wants you to promote the book with her.”

Lena stared at Sam as she let that information wash over her.

“Over my dead body,” she said flatly.

“It’s why she got you out of rehab,” Sam said. “She wants to show how working together you’re healing. That she’s been a key part in your recovery.”

Of course she did. Lillian had paid for her stint in rehab so there was some truth in her helping Lena heal. She was just a lot less hands on than she was claiming she was.

Lena felt sick. There was no end to her mother’s machinations and she wasn’t naive enough to ever believe that Lillian had her best interests at heart. Somehow this was all to benefit Lillian and her golden boy, Lex. If Lex wasn’t already in prison she’d have left Lena to rot.

“Can we deal with this tomorrow? I’m tired and I think I have a migraine starting up.”

“Sure. But you have a meeting with Lillian at one O’clock tomorrow.”

“Perfect.” Lena stood up. “Guest room, right?” Sam nodded. “I’m going to go lie down in the dark for a bit. Thank you for picking me up Sam.”

Lena trudged across the room, turned along the hallway towards the stairs and trudged her way up them. She had slept over at Sam’s often enough, she knew where she was going, so she let her legs take over and carry her to the guest bedroom.

The room hadn’t changed much since the last time Lena had stayed over. Two of her suitcases were set in the corner as well as a couple of taped up boxes. Sam, true to her word, had brought some of her things over for her. 

She sunk down on the bed and pulled off her boots. Lillian selling off her apartment would all just be part of manoeuvring Lena further into her control, as would getting her out of rehab early. She would expect Lena to be thankful for cutting her treatment short, would probably use the threat of sending her back as a means to punish her. 

She wasn’t going to play that game, not this time. She knew from experience that it was impossible to beat her at it, that Lillian just changed the rules as it suited her, moved the goalposts, did whatever it took for her to win. She didn’t care who she had to destroy to get what she wanted and Lena wasn’t about to let Sam, who worked for her family’s company, bear the brunt of Lillian’s wrath and be used against her.

She pushed herself up the bed and lay back. There were far too many pillows and cushions but she didn’t have the energy to throw them off the bed. She sunk down in their collective softness and didn’t so much as flinch when a flowery throw pillow slipped onto her head, covering her face from the room.

She closed her eyes and thought back.

She’d met Adam at the gala she’d been at when she’d started drinking again. They’d just announced Lex’s sentence, found out how many years her testimony against him had cost him. She should have felt triumphant or at least felt some measure of relief. Instead she had felt sick, defeated and guilty, and such utter painful revulsion for herself that it had been a struggle to even stand. 

She didn’t remember Adam all that clearly. Hair in his eyes, younger then her, dressed down. He’d told her he had sneaked in with a few of his friends. By that point she’d already ordered a drink and was holding it between her hands, willing herself to call Sam instead.

Then it was pain. Adam was dead and she was in hospital.

Slowly she opened her eyes and stared up at what she could see of the ceiling. The throw pillow was half across her face and smelled faintly of summer breeze. She rolled onto her side and pulled it over her head, closing her eyes again.

//\/\/\\\

Teeth and hair brushed, face washed, and fresh clothes on, Lena made her way quietly down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was still early and she was hoping to get in a couple coffees before she had to head into the city and deal with her mother.

Ruby was sitting at the breakfast bar, phone propped up against a cereal box as she munched through a near overflowing bowl of puffed sugary wheat infused with who knew what amount of artificial flavourings.

“Morning Ruby,” Lena greeted as she made a beeline for the shiny coffee maker that was taking up an entire corner of one of Sam’s kitchen units. Lena poked at it experimentally, finding the on switch by pure chance. She looked back over her shoulder at Ruby.

Ruby’s spoon froze between the bowl and her gaping mouth. She lowered it and squinted at Lena. “Morning aunt Lena,” she mumbled.

That was a slight improvement on yesterday. At least she’d got a greeting today. She measured out some beans and set the machine whirring away.

“Are you watching your YouTube boy?” she asked, pulling opened cupboards in her effort to find something other than cereal to eat. Ruby, predictably rolled her eyes.

“He’s not a boy. He’s a man.”

“Oh? Do tell, what makes him a man?” Sam’s cupboards only seemed to hoard dishes so Lena was forced to look in the fridge.

“His age,” Ruby said like Lena was stupid and, well, she had Lena there. She’d assumed that he was some spotty teenager, but perhaps not.

There was yogurt in the fridge and Lena nabbed it along with some blueberries. She took them with her to sit next to Ruby, spooning the yogurt into a small bowl and tossing a few blueberries on top. “Show me?”

Surprisingly, Ruby turned the phone towards her. The sound was turned down so low Lena could barely hear it, but the video showed a man running from what appeared to be an amusement park mascot, the stuffed head of a different mascot clutched triumphantly in his hands. He was laughing as he ran, whoever was filming doing an outstanding job of staying in front of him and keeping the camera steady enough that you could see every gurning idiotic expression that crossed his face.

“And this is what he does?” Lena asked slowly. She chewed on some blueberries as the man was forced to chuck the head behind him and increase his speed. The mascot chasing him tried to catch the head and fell over, which sent him howling with laughter.

Ruby paused the video. “He does other stuff too. Pranks, movie reviews, talks about sports and him and his crew try out different fads and stuff.”

“Mon-El,” Lena read off the screen. “Interesting name. Did his mother hate him?”

“It’s not his real name. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Lena agreed.

“That’s just his screen name, he’s really called Mike.” Ruby said this like it should be common knowledge. “Here, this is one of his most popular videos.”

Lena ate another spoonful of yogurt as Ruby pulled up a video titled: _“Pranking my Girlfriend!”_ She could already tell she wasn’t going to like this, but Ruby was talking to her so she was going to suffer through it.

Mon-El was facing the camera, probably his phone from the way he was holding it and the shaky nature of the screen, his face already straining to not laugh. Sam was not wrong about him, if Lena were to Google ‘generically handsome white man’ then she’d probably get a picture of him.

_“Okay so, so,”_ he snort giggled. _“Kara’s about to start filming stuff for her channel and I’ve uh, I’ve modified some of her props. I’ve set a camera up in her room. Let’s see how long it takes her to notice.”_

Ruby’s lips were already pressed together, cheeks tight as she held back incoming giggles for what was coming. The view changed, the screen split so they could see Kara via a camera that must have been set up in the top corner of the room. Kara stood before her own camera with an easel and canvas behind her. There was a table set up with her supplies on and a leather office chair next to that, outside the shot of her camera. Mon-El was n a separate room, sat in a seat watching her on a screen that Lena couldn’t see, fists pushed against his mouth like an excited toddler.

There were some cuts for time, Kara talking through what she was going to be painting in an upbeat voice. The down wards view didn’t show much of Kara, blond hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, broad shoulders, she wore a dinosaur print button down and jeans, thick rimmed glasses perched on her nose. More importantly was her voice; it was enthused, but gentle, somehow calm even as she asked you to join her in her excitement. She sounded patient when she talked through what she was doing, her tone light and fun like she was talking to children. She made a few corny jokes about her work and brush stroke, about the colours, and Lena was convinced that rather an audience of teenagers Kara was probably making an educational video for a much younger audience. 

_“We’re going to take our brush and we’re—”_ Kara plucked a brush out from the jar of water she had set up and paused, frowned at it. She held it up to her camera. The bristles had been cut off. _“As you can see my brush has had a haircut. But that’s okay, we don’t judge here, if this brush wants a buzz cut then that’s A-okay in my book! But we are going to need a brush that hasn’t been trimmed. So!”_ She tossed the brush down on her desk and picked up another. Only it had suffered the same fate. As was the third brush she pulled out.

Lena’s heart sank along with Kara’s shoulders. Ruby was giggling. Kara hand one hand on her hip and scratched at her head with the ruined brush she had in hand. 

_“Really, Mike, my brushes?”_ she said, looking up and around, clearly already knowing that there would be a camera on her. She looked back to her camera. _“I’m afraid we’re having some technical issues today. We might have to resort to finger painting. But you know what? That’s cool! Finger painting is one of my favourite things to do. Sometimes you don’t always have the right tools to hand, sometimes you have to improvise, and as I always say, good art comes from the heart.”_

“She’s so corny,” Lena said staring at the small screen. “I don’t get it though, why doesn’t she just stop filming?” And then go hit her idiot boyfriend over the head with the canvas.

“She was live streaming at the time.”

She should have hit him with the easel and the table afterwards for good measure.

Undeterred by her idiot other half’s antics, Kara wet her fingers in the jar of water and put her finger tips to the first paint she had set out. She froze. Ran her finger over the coloured block again, then picked it up and squeezed it. It squished between her fingers. 

“He destroyed her brushes and replaced her paints.” Lena ate more yogurt. Clearly Ruby loved this guy and Lena wasn’t going to just have to eat her anger in yogurt rather than point out that he was an ass. 

She went to pick up her jar of water but it didn’t budge, instead the flimsy table it was sat on lifted as she lifted the jar and her things rolled off of it to the floor. 

_“Mike!”_

Mon-El started laughing, a big loud over the top donkey bray of a laugh that had to be put on. He leapt out of his chair and raced to the room she was filming in. The camera angle changed to show Mon-El bouncing into the room. 

_“How’s the painting going, Kar?”_

_“You know how it’s going.”_

He turned to Kara’s camera, pulling a face and stroking what passed for a beard adorning his chin.

_“Ah, yes, art, so relaxing, so stimulating.”_ He pulled a paint brush out from his pocket, undamaged, Lena noted, and stuck it dramatically in the jar of water, stirring it around almost violently. When he flicked it out water splashed across the room in Kara’s direction, she lifted her arms and squeaked. He dabbed the brush in something and spun to the blank canvas where he dragged the brush across it leaving a long trail of watery brown in its wake. He moved the brush around making _“hoo”_ and _“hah”_ noises and stepped back revealing a poorly painted turd. _“Whaddaya think, babe?”_

_“I think that… ummm…”_

_“Remember there’s no such thing as bad art.”_ He wagged his paint brush at her. _“It all comes from inside us. There’s a story behind each brush stroke.”_

“This man is an ass.”

“Aunt Lena!” Ruby recoiled from her. 

_“I think you really spoke from your truest place,”_ Kara said. Lena snorted. If Mon-El saw the insult in that he ignored it. He dropped his paint brush in the jar and spun back to Kara, clapping his hands together. Kara dropped back into her chair, her smile forced.

“She’s in on the joke,” Ruby explained. “It’s not as though he’s being mean.”

“Is she?” Lena glanced at Ruby. She wasn’t so sure, something about the stiffness in Kara’s shoulders, the fakeness of her smile that didn’t reach her eyes. 

Mon-El turned to Kara’s camera. _“Join us next week where we learn how to craft this bad boy.”_ He jerked both thumbs over his shoulder at his painting. _“From clay!”_

_“We are not doing that.”_ Kara tried to stand up, but the chair was stuck to her. She squeaked again, much louder this time. Tried to stand once more but she was clearly glued to the seat. _“Mike!”_

He grabbed the back of the chair and wheeled her so she was in front of her own camera. _“Like and subscribe!”_ He yelled before skipping off and leaving Kara stuck in her chair, staring helplessly up at her camera, a poorly painted poop behind her.

“Please don’t make me listen to that man’s voice this early in the morning, Rubes,” Sam said as she entered the kitchen. Ruby turned the video off and went back to eating her cereal. 

“I see what you mean about the bread comparison,” Lena said.

“Right?” Sam went straight for the coffee machine, now ready, and poured herself and Lena a mug each. “He looks like a rat.”

“He is a rat.” Having watched that video she could safely say that. Better that Ruby hated her a little more now and learned to avoid idiots like that than Lena winning back her trust only to watch her wind up with some dickhead later on down the line. “Hairline isn’t looking too strong either.”

“And that’s an old video, you should see how aggressively he has to forward comb these days.”

“Mom!”

“I’m just teasing, Ruby. Your bread man is obviously very handsome.” Sam placed a steaming mug of coffee on the bench in front of Lena, and gave her a wide eyed, brows up look to signal exactly what she thought of said bread man. “Did you eat all the blueberries?” she questioned as she caught sight of the empty packaging next to Lena’s bowl.

“Yes.”

“I was gonna make pancakes.” Sam huffed. “I forgot the insane amount of fruit you eat. I’ll have to stock up. Hey, uh, if you’re missing anything from your stuff then just say and I can get Jess to get it out of storage.”

“Nothing so far, but speaking of Jess.” Lena leaned forward on the breakfast bar, resting on her forearms. “I’d like to speak to her before I see my mother. Also, make the pancakes with chocolate chips instead.”

“I will do and chocolate chips?” Sam cried in outrage. She reached across the bench separating them to grasp Lena’s face in both hands. “Who are you and what have you done to Lena?”

“A little chocolate can be good for you.”

“A little… What?” Sam pulled Lena’s face closer to her, eyes flickering back and forth as they bored deep into Lena’s. She squished her cheeks between her warm palms. “Blink twice if you’re being forced to say these things.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“It’s not like they’re still together anyway,” Ruby muttered, several conversations behind Lena and her mother.

“Good!” Lena wrenched her face from Sam’s grasp and swatted her hands away. “I hope she dumped him.”

Ruby shrugged. “She’s on Twitch now and he’s dating Imra Ardeen.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Lena asked Sam, bewildered and reeling from the fast switches in conversation.

“British beauty blogger,” Sam answered. “I actually like that one. She had a lot of good advice and her voice is magical.”

“Right” Lena nodded in understanding that she didn’t feel. She was starting to feel like she hadn’t been in rehab for six weeks but six years. “I’m going to drink this coffee, then another coffee, and then I’m going to head into the city to see my mother.”

“I’m coming with you,” Sam said. She had her phone out, thumb hammering out a message. “I’ll drive us to her place. We’ll meet up with Jess and grab food afterwards.”

“Don’t you have to go to work?”

“Already taken care of,” Sam assured her. “One of the perks of being near the top of the tree.”

//\/\/\\\

It was overcast and steadily looking more miserable by the time they made it into the city. Sam parked them up, and Lena slipped out, sun glasses on and head down as she made her way into the bar they were meeting Jess in.

Ever punctual, Jess was already there, dressed for work and concentrating on her phone, thumbs flying across the screen. Lena waited for her to finish whatever email she was sending before speaking.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Luthor,” Jess said. She set her phone down and looked up to Lena, smiling warmly. “You look well.”

She didn’t look the half dead mess she had the last time she’d seen Jess in person that was for sure,

“Lovely to see you Jess, you have always been my favourite assistant slash handler slash spy for my mother.”

“Your mother fired me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jess said. “Ms. Arias hired me and gave me a significant raise.”

That was good. Jess might have been hired by Lillian but she had been one of the only people Lena had grown to trust. She deserved to work for someone who actually appreciated her talents, work ethic and good sense, and who would also actually pay her what she was worth.

“What can I do for, Ms. Luthor?”

“Lena, please. You don’t work for me, all I’m asking for is a favour.”

“Alright.” Jess sat up straighter. “Colour me intrigued.”

“Some time ago I asked you to pull some funds from my account, to put it into a different account away from my family’s prying eyes. Did you do it?”

“I did.” Jess nodded. “It had to be done slowly. Doctor Luthor was already suspicious of you, but bit by bit, under the guise of funding your projects and various charities you were supporting I did it.” She tilted her head, grimacing slightly. “I didn’t manage to transfer the amount you requested before Lex’s trial.”

“How much.” Lena’s hands were sweating. If it wasn’t enough she wouldn’t be able to do this. She would be trapped under Lillian’s thumb. 

“Two million.”

Lena exhaled slowly. That was considerably less than she’d wanted. A mere drip compared to the billions her family had, but, if she was careful, it would be enough. 

“Thank you,” she said and meant it. “Thank you for everything Jess. I don’t think I can properly articulate how much you’ve helped me and how grateful I am.”

“Think nothing of it, Lena.” Jess smiled, it was a tight smile but real enough. “Was that the favour you wanted?”

“No, gods no.” Lena wiped her hands on her jeans. “I’m going to meet with Lillian now, when I’m done, I expect she will be very unhappy with me. I expect that I will need that money you’ve secured for me. I will be calling you afterwards and then I will be asking you for a huge favour.”

“I look forward to hearing from you, Lena.” Jess stood up. “If you’ll excuse me my lunch break is over and I have documents I need to organise for Ms. Arias.”

“Of course. I hope to see you soon Jess.”

If Lillian didn’t kill her.

//\/\/\\\

Lillian, in true Lillian style, decided to hold her meeting with Lena in a fancy restaurant that Lena was woefully under dressed for. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been under dressed for anything before in her life, certainly not for anything that involved Lillian Luthor. She wouldn’t have dared. Would have considered turning up to a lunchtime meeting with her mother dressed in jeans as good as committing suicide.

Lillian didn’t stand to greet her step-daughter as Lena was led to her table by the maitre d’. Her gaze did wander distastefully down Lena body, taking in her wardrobe, and back up to linger on her hair. Lena hadn’t straightened it and her natural curls were on display, hanging loose down her shoulders. 

“I see they fed you well at the facility,” Lillian said in lieu of a greeting.

“It’s good to see you too, mother,” Lena replied. She pulled her own chair out and sat down. A waiter materialised seemingly out of thin air as only waiters in restaurants for people with too much money knew how, and poured her a glass of water.

“Would you like to see the wine list?” he enquired.

“No,” Lena said.

“Yes, we shall,” Lillian over ruled her. “A small glass won’t hurt you.”

“I literally just left rehab.”

“Practically a holiday.” Lillian waved her off. “You’re a Luthor and should have better control than that.”

“What happened to alcoholism is a disease?”

“The only disease is your lack of self control.” Lillian’s eyes flickered over her again. “I thought they promoted exercise at the facility. I’ll be having words with Kahn about this.”

Not even five minutes and Lena was already grinding her molars. Her hands were hidden under the table and she moved her right to her jeans pocket, where she had the chip from Sam and Ruby. She ran her fingers over it, pressed it down into her thigh.

“I’ll stick to water,” Lena said struggling to keep the waver out of her voice. “You look well mother.”

She looked immaculate, like a billion dollars. She’d grown up with old money and married into old money, and every inch of her showed it. The suit she wore, her hair, her nails, the string of pearls around her neck, family heirloom given to her by her grandmother that Lena knew fine well wouldn’t ever be passed to her. Ever her perfume. Every molecule of Lillian screamed expense and opulence. Unlike some rich people she made it look classy, not gaudy or cheap. 

Lillian arched a brow, waiting for Lena to say something else but Lena kept quiet. She meant it. Lillian did look well. She might be a snake in human form bit Lena loved her mother and was, on some deeper utterly pathetic level, happy to see how well she looked. The past year couldn’t have been easy on her.

“Having both your children incarcerated looked good on you,” she added apparently unable to help herself.

“Always with the dramatics, Lena,” her mother gently admonished. “You were in a resort.”

“One that I couldn’t leave.”

“Only you would think that being kept in luxury put you in a worse position than your brother. But you have always felt the need to play the victim.”

Lena pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth. 

“Now, we can trade barbs with each other, which I am sure would be an excellent use of your time but a poor use of own, or we can have lunch like the civilised adults that we are.”

“Of course mother.” Lena bowed her head. The waiter reappeared to take their orders and brought with him a bottle of Prieur Montrachet, Lillian had a glass and Lena refused ignoring the way her mother clicked her tongue disapprovingly. 

“When is your book published?” Lena asked as her salad was placed before her.

“Next month,” Lillian answered. “I would like for you to accompany me on the publication tour. There will be several television appearances as well as some dinners with people of notoriety.”

It wasn’t a suggestion, no matter how politely put. Lena curled her fingers around her fork and steeled herself.

“I’ll be busy this month and next,” she said. She speared a tomato and slid it off of her fork with her teeth.

“Will you.” Lillian’s tone was dangerous. “I’m aware of your schedule and I know for a fact that you have nothing planned.”

“I assure you I’ll be very busy.” If she didn’t work up the courage to just tell her mother no she was going to have a heart attack. She was sweating through her shirt, the material clinging to the small of her back.

“Lena. I’m in no mood to put up with your theatrics or whims.”

“This is neither.” Lena set her fork down. “I’m not interested in your book. I can’t stop you from publishing it and profiting from what I am sure is a no doubt very interesting take on my childhood, but I will not help you to sell your lies.”

“Lies?” Lillian’s brow arched even higher now in danger of clearing her forehead entirely. “You haven’t even read it.”

“I don’t need to. I already know that it’ll be a work of fiction.”

“Very well. Cards on the table.” Lillian set her own utensils down. She picked up her glass of wine by the stem and sipped the contents, hummed in pleasure at the taste. “You have no choice in the matter. If you don’t accompany me on my book tour then I shall cut you off.”

It was exactly what she had expected. She’d sold Lena’s apartment so she’d have nowhere to go. It was why she had years ago started moving the money her father had left her away from the family accounts.

“Understandable, I hope you have a pleasant tour,” Lena informed her.

Lillian’s brow twitched. She’d been expecting Lena to capitulate. 

“You understand that you will have nothing. No home, no income, no job.”

“I have all these things.” Or she would very soon.

Lillian’s lips spread into a thin smile. “Ah, the Arias girl. I thought you might throw yourself on her mercy. I could make life very difficult for her, you know.”

“I’m not staying with Sam. I did last night, I admit, but that’s only because I suddenly found out that my apartment had been sold” Lena picked up her water and took a long, soothing sip to wet her dry mouth. “One night only though. I’ve already arranged for different accommodation.”

“You’ll be paying me back for your rehabilitation of course.”

“Of course.”

“And your legal fees.”

Lena’s stomach clenched. She hadn’t been expecting that one. That two million was dwindling fast before her eyes. “Did Lex pay for his legal fees?”

“Lex is part of the family.” Lillian sighed. Bored. “You’ve had your fun, stirred up a little drama, but we both know you’re not going to walk away Lena. How would you manage the press without our help? They’ll eat you alive out there. I’m only looking out for you.”

Lena shook her head slowly. Stomach still clenched and heart thudding painfully. Panic was starting to swell in her throat. Lillian’s old sickly sweet honeyed words creeping under skin, working their poisonous hooks into her flesh. 

“We complete this tour and it rehabilitates your image. You’ll come out the other end of this a hero, a woman to look up to again. You can speak about your experiences, your demons and struggles. It’ll be inspirational.”

Lena’s hands were shaking. Her heart was trembling. 

“No,” she said clearly. She looked up at her mother. “No, I won’t go on your tour with you and short of kidnapping me you can’t force me to do it.”

The chilly silence was horrific. The cold gaze Lillian cast over her sent an arctic blast across the table that rattled Lena’s bones. For a moment, a maddening moment, Lena thought that maybe Lillian would do just that. Would clock her fingers and goons would converge on her, truss her up and toss her into the back of a blacked out mark less vehicle. That she’d be plied with a cocktail of drugs to keep her compliant and that she’d follow Lillian on her tour, a zoned out zombie version of herself parroting whatever Lillian said.

But Lillian shrugged as if it was no matter.

“Very well.” She sipped her wine again. “I’d say it was pleasant to see you Lena but once again decided to make time between us nigh on unbearable. I wish you the best with your endeavours. When you inevitably fall off the rails again I won’t be there to pick up the pieces and clean up your mess. You’re the master of your own fate now.”

“That’s it?” She’d prepared for more of a fight.

“Of course. You can leave now.”

Lena stood up, her legs knocking her chair over. She blinked. Turned and walked, legs on autopilot her brain screaming _getoutgetoutgetout!_ No one tried to stop her as she walked past the bar, out the door and down the steps. She turned and made her way back towards where Sam had parked and was waiting for her. 

Sam was leaning sat in her car, music turned up and singing along utterly out of key to some song that Lena didn’t recognise. 

Lena rounded the car, ragged the passenger door open and sat down.

“Whoa!” Sam clicked off the music. “Are you okay?” 

“I think I’m in shock,” Lena said loudly.

“Yeah, you look it. What happened?”

Lena turned to Sam, jaw working but no noise emerging from her mouth.

“Did you forget how to use words?” Sam reached over and took Lena’s hands. “Hey. Talk to me, it’s okay.”

“I got cut off.”

Sam stared at her for a beat too long. Another beat and her eyes brightened and a huge grin spread across her face. She threw her arms around Lena’s shoulders, hauled her cross the console into a hug and shrieked excitedly into her ear. “Congratulations!”

“Holy shit,” Lena breathed. “I’m poor.”

“Okay, let’s not go crazy, you’re a millionaire not destitute.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” She fumbled for the door handle, pushed it open and turned just in time to heave. Sam patted her clumsily on the back.

“That’s it, get all the bad out. It’s gonna be okay, I told you you’ll always have a home with me and Ruby.”

Sweet, but she couldn’t accept it. Not with Lillian hovering over Sam’s life and with the influence she had to ruin it. 

“About that…” Lena wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “I can’t stay with you. Jess is going to send someone to pick up my things and I’ll find a hotel for now.”

“Lena, whatever it is your doing you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I know.” She straightened up. “Thank you. For everything. Please don’t worry, I have a plan.”

“Oh, that just makes me worry more.” Sam closed her eyes. 

She probably had good reason to worry. Lena’s plan was half baked at best but it was all she had to work with.


End file.
